


How Do You Want To Do This?

by aeriiin



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: D&D, Dungeons and Dragons, Friendship, Friendship/Love, M/M, Wow look at these total nerds hahaha, but no actual violence??, can you guess where my inspiration comes from?, descriptions of violence, how do i tag oh god
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-10-11 14:11:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10466868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeriiin/pseuds/aeriiin
Summary: He’ll say it once and he’ll say it again.God, he wanted to punch himself for letting a piece of plastic dictate his love life.





	1. Luck of the Roll

_ Ka-clink. _

 

11.

 

McCree’s heart skyrocketed into his throat so fast he could have gotten nauseous had he not been careful.

 

There it was. A big fat ‘11’ on the small dark blue 20-sided die that stared at him as if to say, ‘ _You made this a thing, big fella; time to shine_ ’.

 

So maybe basing some of his decisions on a plastic dice used in a tabletop role-playing game wasn’t one of his brighter ideas. He paused to think on the many, many sarcastic comments about his other brilliant ideas from the past people had shot at him over the years and immediately shoved those as far back as they would go into his head. He really didn’t need the condescending ego beat-down he was far too good at giving himself right now.

 

Someone cleared their throat at the table and the gunslinger looked back up at the group from his screen. Right. There’s still a game to run. They had to finish this up. He glanced down once more at the bottom of the sheet to his far right that read in his erratic handwriting: ‘Yem’ryll, Beholder. HP – 0’, a trail of crossed out other numbers just above the 0.

 

Clasping his hands together just over the screen, he looked down the table towards Genji and Hanzo, the two sitting at the head and left side of the table respectively, Genji’s visor and faceplate off to his side. He did his best to recall every goddamn game of poker he had ever played in his life to summon the world’s best poker face for this one moment.

 

“Hattori,” He spared quick look to Hanzo, who nodded slowly with all the focus of someone paying the utmost attention. “…Steve.” At this point he no longer chuckled at the simple but equally hilarious name that Genji had chosen, but his lips did quirk up into a short-lived smile even now.  “As Yem’ryll’s one large, bloodshot eye looks at y’all… its shriveled, damaged eyestalks bleedin’ an’ barely able to keep itself aloft in the air, but still stubbornly clingin’ to what last bit of life it has left in it… It turns to you both… ” 

 

He locked eyes one final time with the two brothers, his voice dropping low and gravelly to let this moment sink in for them. “… How do y’all wanna do this?”

 

Not even a second after the last syllable leaves his lips the table burst into cheers and screams that Jesse is absolutely certain could be heard all around the base. Reinhardt’s booming voice carried throughout most of the room, but Hana herself had proven time and time again that she had quite the set of lungs on her when she wants, the two of them giving high fives to whomever they can reach and bellowing out battle cries of their own. Lena had long ejected herself out of her seat, blinking around the room in a flash of bright blue to give everyone a tight squeeze in excitement. 

 

The part that most warmed Jesse’s heart, however, was the look of relief and pure joy on the brothers’ faces as they each wrapped one arm around each other’s shoulder, hugging the other in close in a way that he imagined was a common gesture between them as children.

 

(And if anyone had noticed how he stared for just a moment longer at the way Hanzo’s lips curled up when he smiled wide and bright, and the shine around his eyes and on his cheeks caused by tears of happiness (ones the proud man would fervently deny later on, knowing him), they hadn’t said anything.)

 

Once the initial wave of excitement somewhat died down, McCree nodded towards Genji and Hanzo as a way to prompt them for their answer. Genji spoke first, leaning forward towards the group in his seat as he talked. It was something of a habit of his that let everyone know he was talking either in-character or describing something.

 

“I look to Hattori at my side, shoot it once in the big eye, and then pierce all of the stalks with the other arrow, and say to him,” He turned in his chair slightly to face Hanzo. “ _ Now _ !”

 

Hanzo took a deep breath and nods in return. “I take a running jump,  use the arrows to get leverage as I stab Yem’ryll once more …” He paused, but the table knew he had more to say. “And I yell, ‘This is for all those whom you have cut down. Die like the parasite you are!’ And twist my knives once more before jumping off.”

 

The table cheered for the two as they return their focus to the end of the table where Jesse sat, a smirk playing on his lips all the while as he watched Genji pat his brother on the back twice and utter something quick but encouraging in Japanese, judging by the tone and the way both brothers grin at one another.

 

“An’ as you sink your knives in an’ your last arrow pierces through it, Yem’ryll lets out this great big screech of pain,” He let out a horrific shriek of his own to mimic, noting the looks of ‘holy shit’ at his players at the noise. He wasn’t always the best at describing things prettily, but he’d be damned if he didn’t try to add a little something extra when he could. “Y’all watch as the hulkin’ mass of the beholder starts to sag, no longer able to keep itself up, an’ as it falls to the ground with a loud slumpin’ noise. It convulses once…. Twice… Then the room falls silent as the last bit of life drains from its body, a now empty husk.” The gunslinger looked towards his weary but thoroughly enthralled players and smiled from ear to ear. “An’ that’s where we’re gonna call it for tonight, folks.”

 

Sighs of relief mixed with groans of mild aggravation at the cliffhanger, the tense atmosphere from the earlier drawn-out fight melting away as binders clipped shut and dice were gathered off the table. Conversation lulled about as people collected their things, ranging from the fight itself to theories of what to do next and everything in between.

 

Hana was the first to trail out of the room, leaning partially against Lena, who was not fairing any better herself if her yawning was anything to go by. McCree felt somewhat guilty about keeping them up so late, considering they two of them have a mission de-briefing in the morning, 0800 sharp. Despite how many times everyone has assured him that they do not mind how late his games tended to run, he could never quite shake that feeling completely free. Guess he really was getting soft in his later years.

 

Reinhardt stopped to pat Jesse on the back, probably sensing his concern and nodded towards the girls leaving with a warm smile, one that crinkled the corners of his eyes. “They are young, my friend. Young and more full of energy than the rest of us, I am sure. They will be fine.” The mountain of a man stayed for a bit to help Genji and McCree set the table back in place, but took his leave all the same shortly thereafter, wishing the others goodnight.

 

The back of his neck began to itch with every passing second. He rolled an 11. He had a code, he was an honest DM. He always acted on his rolls, no matter the outcome and this was no different. Ask out Hanzo, DC 11. No modifiers, no advantage, no disadvantage, no nothing. Roll once every new day until game day for the week leading up. Roll an 11 or higher, he would ask Hanzo out. God, he wanted to punch himself for setting such a low difficulty.

 

...

 

God, he wanted to punch himself for letting a piece of plastic dictate his love life.

 

Swallowing a lump in his throat, he packed up his screen and the papers he had used to keep track of initiative into his own binder, stuffing them all in the horribly tacky flower-print tote bag that someone had gotten him as a joke for the holidays. A few dice that had been resting up against the screen tumbled forward, and a bright red 8-sided die tumbled off the side of the table as a result. The white number read, ‘1’. If he was any bit a superstitious man, he might have taken that to be some kind of omen.

 

He rolled the die between his fingers. It wasn’t quite the same feeling as his usual d20, the edges far more pronounced and angular, but the action held the same effect. His heart began to calm from its erratic pattern, and he felt his thoughts beginning to return to him. Jesse laughed dryly at just how much of an effect Hanzo had on him. He could improvise a decent enough plan on the fly in battle, could get the beat on a crowded room just by looking everyone’s faces, but sit him down next to the elder Shimada and it wouldn’t be long before he turned into a bumbling mess. A happy, sappy, horribly head-over-heels bumbling mess.

 

The nearly silent sound of Genji refitting his visor and the not so silent sound of footsteps headed towards the door, followed by muted conversations between the two, was what finally made McCree  stand up from the ground and find his voice.

 

“Hey, uh, Hanzo? You got a sec’? Promise I won’t keep you long …” Genji’s mask needn’t to be on his face for Jesse to know he was smirking at him as he jogged over to the two. He could just feel it. Clearing his voice before he spoke again, he ran his hand through his hair and hoped the archer couldn’t read just how nervous he was. Still was. He silently wished he had his hat, if nothing else to give his hands something to do at this very moment.

 

There was a small stretch of silence that was enough to make Jesse start fidgeting under not the one, but both of the scrutinizing gazes of the formidable Shimdas. He’s not sure whose made him more uncomfortable: the half-cybernetic man he had come to call a good friend over the years, whose blade he had seen cut men clear in half within the time it takes to blink twice, or the man whose frighteningly deadly accuracy with a bow made him hot under the collar in more than one way.

 

Genji’s amused chuckle was what ended up breaking the silence of the room. “Told you the door stunt from earlier was going to get you a lecture later.” Hanzo merely scoffed in response.

 

McCree couldn’t help but laugh heartily at the comment and the memory of the group’s struggle with his odd puzzle door initially. “Naw, you kiddin’? That whole bit y’all did was the funniest goddamn thing I’ve seen in years. Might actually need Angie to patch me up later on jus’ to be sure. Naw, I jus’ wanted to ask your brother somethin’,” He turned briefly to look at Hanzo and felt the quick surge of confidence in his system wear off. “I mean, if that’s alright. Like I said, won’t keep you long. Promise.”

 

“Understood.”  Hanzo gave a curt nod before turning to Genji. “I shall see you in the morning, then.” As if he had forgotten, he mumbled quietly, “And thank you for today.”

 

“Of course, brother. And you as well.” Genji paused in the doorway before looking back at McCree. There was that nagging feeling he was smirking again that made his face grow warm. “You too, cowboy. Good night. Rest well. And try not to make an ass of yourself.”

 

“H-hey, now hold on there-“ The rest died on his tongue as Genji waved to the two men and vanished in a blur, a boyish chuckle the only other sound the man made as he left. And then there were two. The d8 in his right hand had resumed rolling between his fingers.

 

“I cannot believe after all these years, I still find myself apologizing for my brother’s sake.” The elder Shimada crossed his arms across his chest, one hand going to pinch the bridge of his nose out of habit but ended up nudging his piercing. He winced slightly on contact.

 

Jesse shot him a sympathetic look. “Still hurts, huh?”

 

“Unfortunately. It seems I have… somewhat misjudged how long this would take to heal properly. The one who did my piercings claimed it would be near 3 months for external healing, but there is still some soreness. I have mentioned it offhand to Dr. Ziegler…” Hanzo sighed and waved his hand as if to brush away the thought. “It is nothing. Forgive me for rambling.”

 

The cowboy shook his head with a smile. “Hanzo, if that’s what you classify as ‘ramblin’’ then I’d almost hate to think what you think of my motor mouth.”

 

That seemed to elicit a low chuckle from the man beside him, the man’s previously crossed arms relaxing as he glanced down to the floor briefly before looking back up at Jesse. “I only call it ‘rambling’ because you wished to speak with me, and I did not wish to intrude on your time to speak.”

 

McCree’s hand stopped fidgeting with the die at that, and he took a deep breath. It wasn’t rejection he feared. Far from it, he more worried about what to do if Hanzo agreed to even humor him for a date. Things between them had been on the up and up for a while now, from friendly range practice banter to sharing drinks after a rough mission, and the occasional game of Dungeons and Dragons they played with friends seemed to help things even further. Yet, for as brash and brazen as the cowboy liked to make himself out to be, for matters of the heart he found himself as competent as a teenager with a crush.

 

He felt a wave of flush flood through his entire body as he spoke next. “Did’ya get all your dice? Know you’ve got yourself there a hoard.”  _ Quit stallin’, boy,  _ he could practically hear the little voice in his head yell. He really needed to shut that thing up.

 

Hanzo rolled his eyes. “Considering how frequently everyone seems to lose their own set of dice, it is only natural one of us keep plenty on hand. I do not see why the others insist on mocking my preparations for the group.”

 

McCree bit back another chuckle at that remark. Everyone knew Hanzo only kept so many dice around because of his ridiculously superstitious nature towards them. If he had a dollar for every time he had seen the man throw a d20 into the small cup Hana had affectionately labeled ‘Dumb Baby Dice Jail’, he could have probably paid off his own bounty. Once Reinhardt’s dice had been doing so poorly one night, Hanzo got up from his seat and nearly forced the man to use different dice in a fit of frustration. Genji even joked that on really bad days, he burned sage afterwards to ‘cure the air of his bad luck’. Hanzo had smacked him in the head for that one, but made no attempt to deny it either.

 

Jesse held up his hands in mock defense with a smile. “I ain’t tryin’ to knock you ‘r your dice, Han. Dragons and their hoard, right?” He received a small punch to his shoulder for the joke, making him laugh. “Haha! Alright, alright, bad joke. Look, I owe you a few anyways, don’t I?  Seein’ as how I’ve lost a few you’ve leant me in the past. I ain’t discountin’ myself in this!”

 

He was not even remotely surprised when Hanzo looked up as if to recall something before looking back at him and saying, “Yes. You currently owe me two 20’s, a d4, and I believe a 12 as well.”

 

“That all? You sure there’s not one more?” He shuffled where he stood, shifting back and forth between which leg he put his weight on.

 

The archer paused, running a hand across his bearded chin before shaking his head. “No. That was it. Why do you ask?”

 

Jesse looked down at the d8 in his hand and his grin widened a bit more. He was either going to get punched for this, or… well, honestly he’s not sure what the other option was, but he doubted it was good either. “You, uh... You sure I don’t owe you a d8?”

 

“…What are you talking about now?” The look of pure confusion that had spread across Hanzo’s face at that moment made McCree feel like he should just go on and change his belt to ‘DAMF’. Dumb-Ass Motherfucker. He’s certain no one would argue with him on it. He wouldn’t, that’s for certain. 

 

“A d8. A date. A... dee-eight. I’m, uh, askin’ you out, darlin’.” Fuck. He pocketed the small plastic die in his hand and ran his fingers through his hair, the drop in his stomach and hot wash of shame on his face giving him all he needs to know that he’s turned into a flustered mess. Again. Double fuck. “Goddamn, sounded better in my head, I swear.” 

 

' _Well, that's the first sign you know you fucked up_ ,' came the little voice. If he could strangle thoughts, he'd do so in a heartbeat at this rate. Triple fuck.

 

He couldn’t tell if the slight redness on Hanzo’s otherwise stone stoic face was from the man’s own embarrassment over the scenario, or secondhand from watching McCree stumble around. 'He couldn’t tell'. He said that so much around Hanzo, and it was true every time. Could never tell if he was angry, or constipated. Had that laugh been genuine, or was it out of spite? Hot one minute, cold the other. Never constant enough for McCree to learn how to read him. In the end that’s [probably why he found him so fascinating in the first place. The gunslinger was so used to being able to read people like books in an instant, their actions and unsaid words saying more about them than any monologue they could give about their past. But with Hanzo, he was lost, challenged by him unlike anyone he had ever met before. And if there was anything Jesse McCree was, it sure as hell wasn’t a quitter.

 

The heartbeat in his ears and the swell of nausea at the growing uncomfortable silence in this very instance, however, made him want to reconsider that notion.

 

Letting out a shaky sigh, McCree’s hand dropped from his head and he headed back over to his bag to resume packing up. The little voice was back, but instead of its usual strings of unhelpful advice, it was screaming ‘ _shit, shit, shit, shit_ ’ at the top of its lungs and offering him nothing in his time of need. Not that it normally did but it especially showed now.

 

“Jesse?”

 

The sudden snap of a voice beside him caught him off guard and he let out a yelp in surprise at just how close the smaller man had gotten without his noticing, Hanzo’s hand hovering just about his shoulder as if to touch him.  _ Stealthy son of a gun _ -

 

“Ah, uh,” He cleared his throat once, twice, for good measure. “Look, uh, jus’ go ahead an’ forget I said anythin’ really.” He’d say he was sorry, but despite the horrific failure, he still had put his intentions out on the table for Hanzo to do with as he wished. That was something he couldn’t bring himself to apologize for. So for now, he’ll tip his head down so his bangs could hang down his face in a vain attempt to cover up his embarrassment and mumble a quick, “G’night, darlin’” before making his way out of the room himself.

 

He’ll say it once and he’ll say it again.

  
_God, he wanted to punch himself for letting a piece of plastic dictate his love life._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow what a nerd hahahah


	2. Charisma Check

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree had almost thought that was going to be of that and they could continue on with their day as if last night’s embarrassment never happened.
> 
> But, boy, did that man have a habit of proving him wrong time and time again.

There were two things that Overwatch’s Gibraltar base always had on hand without fail: ammunition and strong coffee.

 

Jesse had lost most his taste for a morning cup long ago back during the days when all he could afford was coffee so thick and muddy he swore it was more dirt than drink, and thus had no real reason to be up at 7:41 AM sitting towards the back of the main mess hall. And yet here he was, palm against his cheek as he tried to fight off the oncoming wave of exhaustion that threatened to overtake him if he closed his eyes for too long. He cynically wondered where that feeling had been hours ago when he had actually been trying to fall asleep, but then reminded himself that it wasn’t anything new at this point. Just like every other poor sap that’s been in this line of work, especially one who’s worked as long as he has, sleep was never guaranteed for him.

 

Of course, his current state of mind could also be blamed on how late things ran last night. He hadn’t bothered to check the clock when the game ended, though he remembered stumbling into his quarters sometime after 2 in the morning, spending the next half-an-hour to an hour reeling from the sheer embarrassment he felt after… No. No, he promised himself he wasn’t going to stew on it. 

 

_ ‘Just push it far down, boy. You’re good at that sorta thing’. _

 

He figured he had fallen asleep sitting there after all when he felt a hand on his shoulder shaking him gently and then not-so-gently after he didn’t even crack an eye open to see who it was. That was all the information he needed to know it was Hana.

 

“Wow, you look dead, dude. Does this mean I get your hat in your will?” 

 

McCree smirked at the younger girl’s jab as she sat down across from him at the dining table, Lena finding them shortly thereafter and plopping down beside the MEKA pilot. The trays in their hands were piled with scrambled eggs, slices of semi burnt toast (they needed to fix that damn toaster), and what he could only describe as some of the saddest looking strips of bacon he had ever seen in his life, and that was saying something considering the food he had endured during his days in Deadlock.

 

“Now, Miss Hana Song, you’ve been dissin’ my style since the day we met. Why on God’s great Earth would you want my hat?”

 

She doesn’t even miss a beat. “Someone has to destroy that thing for good. Set it on fire. Melt it in acid. Whatever it takes.”

 

The cowboy turns to Lena with a deadly serious look on his face. “Sunshine, I’mma need you to commit this moment to memory an' use this conversation as evidence in a case of graverobbin’ ‘cause this is just further proof that there ain’t no one I can trust my hat to.”

 

“You saying you gonna to be buried with it then?” Lena’s voice was equal parts incredulous and humorous as she spread a thin layer of jam onto her toast.

 

“I’m sayin’ it’ll be on my head ‘til I drop dead an' then some. It ain’t goin’ nowhere ‘til then.”

 

“Okay, fine, fine. Jeez. Keep the hat!" Hana let out an exasperated groan, throwing her hands up dramatically and nearly smacking someone passing by behind her as she did so. "It’s stupid anyway. But I call dibs on the belt buckle.”

 

Jesse leaned back in his seat comfortably. “Ya know, y'all did a fine job with that battle last night. Good battle plan, everyone stayed up for the most part..." His eyes twinkled as he looked back at Hana and Lena. "Would be a cryin’ shame to have to fight that nasty beholder _all over again._  Think I remember readin’ somewhere in this newer edition they get to come back sometimes, situation dependin.” 

 

The sharp gasping sound the two girls made in unison made him chuckle deeply. It was a dirty, dirty lie and he knew it, but they didn’t need to know that.

 

“You wouldn’t dare.” Hana’s eyes were narrowed dangerously at the man in front of her. "You. Wouldn't. Dare."

 

“Honeybee, I want you to look at me again, an' I mean take a good hard look at who I am, an’ tell me I’m the kind ‘a guy who 'wouldn’t dare’.” 

 

After all, he was a grown man approaching his forties in an illegal international task force who had asked out another grown man approaching his forties in an illegal international task force with a stupid-ass pick-up line as if they were teenagers just last night. If that didn’t scream, ‘I so would dare and would do so again in a heartbeat’, he didn’t know what did anymore.

 

They continued to talk briefly as the younger two ate their breakfast, their conversation remaining lighthearted and mostly about the beholder battle itself, before they had to take their leave for their mission briefing, along with a few other stragglers that had wandered into the mess hall during their conversation. With them the bulk of the noise that had filled the mess hall dissipated. Normally, he’d rejoice at the blissful quiet that would fill the room at the absence of people, but without someone or something to keep his mind from wandering he was left with just himself and his thoughts. And on days like these, that was rarely ever a good thing.

 

His palm slid up from his cheek to rub his eyes, feeling as his face heat up at the memory of last night’s… eh, he’ll just call it as it was: a train wreck. A d8. A date. He’d ask what he had been thinking but he already knew that he wasn’t when he blurted out that whopper of a line. The only upside to the whole thing was the fact that no one else saw, and Genji had only an idea of what was going to happen. ‘Try not to make an ass of yourself’ indeed.

 

“If you are not careful, your face will freeze in that way.”

 

Internally, McCree asked what the  _ ever-living fuck _ he ever did to piss of the forces of fate and if there was a way of appeasing them before sparing a glance up at the source of the all-too-familiar voice.

 

Hanzo’s own exhaustion this morning was evident from both his appearance, hair sticking up every which way and dark shadows under his eyes, and from the lack of bite in his words. He didn’t sit down, but the look on his face was enough to let McCree know he wanted to talk. Shit.

 

Realizing he hadn't answered back, Jesse let out a laugh so dry it could have been a scoff.  “If you’re the one tellin’ me that, then it’s gotta mean somethin’, huh?” His gaze drifted back to his hands which rested on the table itself.

 

“I meant what I had said, McCree. That sourness on your face is disconcerting, to say the least.” Hanzo’s arms were crossed across his chest, but his gaze did not hold the same rigidness it normally contained. Jesse was lucky he was seated otherwise he knew his knees would have buckled at the genuine concern that was laced in the archer’s voice. Infatuation or not, the fact that he had caused someone close to him to worry made him feel even more sheepish.

 

Running his hand through his unwashed hair, Jesse let out a deep sigh. “Apologies then there, Hanzo. Didn’t mean t’ worry you none. Jus’…” Thinking about how much of a dumbass he had been? Wishing to be in the smallest hole possible right now? “…Jus’ thinkin’, is all. Don’t have to worry ‘bout it non. Really.”

 

Hanzo’s lips pressed into a thin line as he cast his gaze to the ground. It was a long while before he spoke again, and McCree had almost thought that was going to be of that and they could continue on with their day as if last night’s embarrassment never happened.

 

But, boy, did that man have a habit of proving him wrong time and time again.

 

“Last night... you mentioned you had borrowed a d8 that I did not recall.”

 

“Oh.” McCree’s hand ran down his still-warm face. It was far too early for this. “Look, that-“

 

“I was not finished.” The sharpness in his voice cut through the rest of his protest in an instant. “As I had said, you mentioned you had borrowed a d8 of mine. I had stated that you owed me a d4, two d20s, and a d12. However, after going through my notes, it appears I did lend you one d8 once before.”

 

He held up a hand as Jesse’s mouth moved to open. “And I would insist that you refrain from cracking any further jokes about my habits when concerning your game.”

 

For the first real time since he arrived at the mess hall, McCree’s lips quirked up into a proper smile. Hanzo pouring over his meticulous and extensive notes in game was endearing enough to watch as is; to know that he did so for his sake made his heart flutter against his ribcage. The man had a drive like no other, regardless of what the task was at hand.

 

Just another thing he loved about him.

 

“Shit, really? Not doubtin’ you there, partner, but, well, you know.” His hand went to the back of his neck, scratching at the suddenly too itchy skin. He wasn’t even sure where this was going at this point. “Jus’ thought I was bein’ a cheeky lil’ shit like usual.”

 

“I never said you weren’t one. Merely that for once it was well placed.” The return of their usual playful banter made Jesse smile even more, the familiarity flooding him with a feeling of warmth. A laugh fell from his lips as his hands rested on the cool metal surface of the table.

 

“Now who’s bein’ a cheeky lil’ shit?”

 

“Still you, evidently. But, returning to my point in this conversation,” Hanzo leaned over the table at this point, his voice a low grumble as he spoke. “You do realize you never returned that die to me, correct?"

 

McCree licked his lips, hoping in vain it would fix the dryness of his mouth. "I didn't?"

 

"No, you did not. You instead left before I could retrieve it from you.” The sudden shift in tone had Jesse suppressing a flinch and the urge to run. It was the tone that he had come to associate with whenever the elder Shimada was honing in on a target and taking aim, one that never failed to send a shiver down his spin at the sound. There was that intimidating drive of his, rearing its head like the twin dragons that currently laid dormant in his left arm.

 

The archer continued on, his eyes boring holes through Jesse’s all the while. “So now you do, in fact, owe me a d8, gunslinger.”

 

Despite the confidence in his voice as he said so, Jesse’s eyes widened slightly at the faint dusting of red across the man’s face as he stood up, looking over the room as if it suddenly was far more fascinating than the conversation they were having. He debated pinching himself for longer than he would care to admit before he spoke up. 

 

_ ‘Not yet, cowboy’ _ , the tiny killjoy of a voice was back and sassier than ever. Sometimes he swore it sounded like a mix between the Reyes from his youth, and Captain Amari. 

 

“Jus’ so I ain’t misunderstandin’ you here, darlin’, …you sayin’ you’d…” Out of excitement or nerves, he’s really not sure which is the one controlling his actions at this moment, his hand went from rubbing his mouth to a random gesture outward back to his mouth. He found himself wishing for the cool and calm composure Hanzo so effortless exerted in these sorts of situations. ”I-I mean, you’d wanna try?”

 

Hanzo sighed, once again going to pinch the bridge of his nose. Thankfully, he remembered in time and dropped his hand instead. He didn’t miss, however, how the corners of the other man’s mouth curled in a small grin, one that bordered a smirk. The expression almost looked fond, like the look he gave Genji whenever they discussed old memories from their youth. Perhaps he had gotten better at reading the man after all.

 

“We may discuss its return over coffee, if you so wish, yes." He paused, his posture straightening up suddenly and the grin falling from his face momentarily. "That is, unless you have already made prior arrangements for today, in which case-”

 

There was a brief pause before Jesse let out a hiss of pain and a yelp, causing Hanzo to jump back in shock and confusion.

 

“Fuck, shit! S-sorry, darlin', hadda- Oof. Alright, yup, definitely not dreamin’. Okay. In hindsight, probably shouldn’t have used lefty for that lil’ test there.”

 

The gunslinger offered up a sheepish smile to Hanzo, who stared at him blankly for one, two, three seconds before doubling over in laughter, his entire body shaking all the while. This was a far cry from his usual reserved chuckle or scoff, and needless to say, Jesse couldn’t help but stare. It was also highly infectious to say the least, and before long, he found himself joining in, howling alongside him from his seat. In between breaths, he heard Hanzo gasp out as heshook his head at the other, the biggest grin the man had ever seen on him stretching from ear to ear across his face.

 

“You... are absolutely ridiculous, Jesse McCree!” ‘

 

_ And don’t you forget it’, _ the little voice fired back.

 

As they came down from their laughing fit, McCree stood up from the table and made his way over to stand in front the other man. It was odd to him how easy it was to forget just how much shorter the elder Shimada was compared to himself; it probably had to do with how the man carried himself and his posture. But standing tall in front of Hanzo like this, Jesse could see the slight strain to look up at him and felt how his own neck stiffened as he cast his gaze downward. 

 

Hanzo’s cheeks still red from laughter, his messy hair flopping gracelessly across his one shoulder, dark circles beneath his eyes, and Jesse could feel himself falling just a bit deeper. He really was a sap.

 

He felt his fingertips brush up against Hanzo's, and hesitantly, he reached down, taking the other's fingers loosely in his own. When the archer didn't pull away, his thumb began running across the calloused skin. It was a rough feeling, but somehow grounding all the same. The grin that still rested gently on Hanzo's lips gave him a sneaking suspicion the feeling was mutual.

 

“Coffee sounds heavenly, darlin’.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo, heyo! Thanks for reading! This was my first time writing anything like this in years, so I'm super open to any critiques and comments on how to improve and such! 
> 
> Ngl a big part of me writing this stemmed from my love for dnd and a conversation i had with my friend about the Overwatch folks playing dnd between missions whoop /o/ 
> 
> (whispers also u should totally check them out at http://thetiniestcicada.tumblr.com/ their art is amazing and so great like wow what great art)


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